The Bear Facts
by Wilusa
Summary: One fan writer's guess at the significance of the bear we see in Ben's nightmares. Written Feb. 2004.
1. Chapter 1

  
DISCLAIMER: Carnivale and its canon characters are the property of HBO and the show's producers; no copyright infringement is intended.  
  
**_Note:_** Like any speculative Carnivale fiction written now, this story may be rendered AU by canon established in a future season. I'm a fan who enjoys trying to fit pieces of the puzzle together in fiction, as opposed to simply theorizing. But I hope and expect the show's writers will come up with something much better!  
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"Have you seen my bear?"  
  
Even as that anguished cry left Lodz's lips, he realized the words were the same ones he'd spoken back when it all began. On the fateful day that had changed everything.  
  
_I spoke English then because I could see the soldier's uniform wasn't Russian or German, and I'd heard there were Canadians in the area. Then I got closer, and could actually see "Canada" in small print on the shoulder.  
  
Now there's no question about language, but I have no idea who just barged into the trailer and is standing three feet from me...  
  
_He knew, of course, as soon as he heard the voice.   
  
A voice that said bluntly, "Your bear is dead, Lodz. Along with three kids."  
  
Lodz staggered backward as if he'd been struck a physical blow. Gripping a table for support, he wailed, "You let them kill my bear? You let them kill Bruno?"  
  
"No." The voice was shaking now, with an emotion he recognized as fury. "I didn't 'let' anyone kill your precious bear. I shot the damn thing myself, so it wouldn't try to eat any more kids!"  
  
Lodz let out a shriek and lunged at the other man. He knew the dwarf Samson was a small target, but he guessed wrong at the height and found himself clutching empty air.  
  
Samson's kick sent him sprawling.  
  
He didn't try to return to the attack. He curled up on the floor and lay sobbing as Management thanked Samson for solving their problem and ordered him to move the carnival out of St. Louis.  
  
For the moment, Lodz didn't care who ran the accursed carnival. He could think only of Bruno, and the choices that had followed his _first_ disappearance.  
  
_If I had it to do over, knowing what I do now...  
  
No! I mustn't let myself think that way! It's too late for regrets.  
  
But...what if I hadn't looked for him? What if I hadn't met that Canadian soldier...?  
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**_The Great War: Russian front, 1917._**  
  
Lodz trudged disconsolately across a plain littered with corpses, flinching only slightly at sporadic bursts of gunfire whose distance he couldn't judge. The sky was so darkened by particles of debris that the sun seemed a distant memory. But when he'd last looked at his pocket watch it had only been 3:00 p.m.  
  
The battlefield reeked, a mix of smells in which he could identify smoke, blood, vomit, urine, and feces. He didn't glance down at the substances he was stepping in, tried not to think about them.  
  
He'd called for Bruno until he was hoarse. Now he walked aimlessly, not really hoping to find his beloved bear, not sure where he'd go or what he'd do if he didn't.  
  
_Why wouldn't those fools listen to me? I said it was crazy to bring a carnival so close to the front! Any animal would have been driven berserk by all that noise.  
  
_But he had the only animal act, and the manager had ignored his warnings.  
  
For him, starting over with another bear was out of the question. He and Bruno had been together so long that he viewed his charge almost as a brother. Even the name he'd chosen for himself was a tribute not to his home town, but to the one in which an older trainer, nearing retirement, had given him the young Bruno.  
  
He sighed_. Not that this has been anything like the life I expected when I ran away from home to join a carnival..._  
  
It was that carnival's two psychics who'd enthralled him, fired his 14-year-old imagination with dreams of becoming what they were. He'd hoped to learn secrets and master skills that would let him soar above the pig farms of rural Poland...free his questing mind to explore faraway places, forgotten times, and the fearsome realms of spirit.  
  
Unfortunately, both performers had turned out to be phonies.   
  
Even after becoming an animal trainer, Lodz had pursued his dream. He'd moved frequently from one carnival to another. But in decades of searching, he'd found only a few psychics with even a trace of real talent; they'd told him it had to be inborn. He'd finally given up.  
  
_So you're all I have, Bruno. And you're probably as lost without me as I am without you._  
  
He paused wearily, giving himself the excuse that despite the poor visibility, it might be a good idea to stand in one place and take a slow look around in all directions.  
  
It was when he had his back turned that the soldier almost backed into him.  
  
Both men spun around, gasping. The soldier raised his gun in a jerky movement, then lowered it quickly as he realized he was facing a civilian.  
  
Lodz took in the unfamiliar uniform, remembered the talk of Canadians, and blurted out in his fluent English, "Have you seen my bear?"  
  
The soldier's expression wasn't as bewildered as might have been expected, given the question. But he still looked incredulous as he asked, "The bear is yours?"  
  
Lodz's heart gave a mighty leap. "Yes, yes! You've seen him? Is he all right? He ran away from a carnival. He's tame, he was just frightened by the noise--"  
  
The soldier was shaking his head. "I've seen him," he said grimly. "Not five minutes ago. But he's turned wild. He was eating dead bodies back there in the trench I was in. Then he attacked another soldier and me. My gun jammed--" He shuddered.  
  
Lodz panicked. "Did either of you shoot him?"  
  
The soldier gave him a strange look, but said, "No. At least I don't think so. The bear came at me, and my gun jammed. The other man--a Russian--fired and missed because the bear was moving, and it turned on him and began mauling him. I don't think he got another shot off.   
  
"My gun still wouldn't work--all it's good for now is bluffing. And the one I grabbed from the nearest corpse was out of ammo." He seemed to be reliving it, talking more to himself than to Lodz, trying to convince himself he'd done the right thing. "Only the Russian and I were alive, and I figured all the other guns in the trench could be out of ammo. If I tried to fight the bear without a working gun, I'd just get myself killed along with the Russian. So I decided to get a safe distance away till the bear moved on, then go back and see if I can find any weapons that are usable."  
  
He didn't add, "And go after it." He didn't have to.   
  
"That was a good idea." Lodz shifted uncomfortably, aware of the man's eyes on him again. "I'm sorry he attacked you. He was hungry. And then he smelled the blood from the corpses...  
  
"But you have to believe me, he's normally tame! Please, please don't kill him!" He hated himself for begging, but he couldn't stop. Gripping the other man by the shoulders, he pleaded, "Please let me go with you! I'm sure I can control him, even now. Let me help capture him and take him back to the carnival!"  
  
The soldier hesitated. But then, to Lodz's surprise, he nodded in agreement. "All right." His grimy, sweat-soaked face managed something close to a smile. "This is quite a coincidence. Before I enlisted, I was a carnival performer myself."  
  
Lodz was taken aback. "That is strange, considering how few of us there are." Since the man didn't appear to be any kind of freak, he asked, "Did you work with animals too? In Canada?"  
  
"In the U.S., though I am in the Canadian Army now. And yes, you could say I worked with animals, but not in the same way as you. Do you know the American carnie term 'geek'?"  
  
Lodz made a face. "Yes."  
  
"Then you can imagine what went through my mind when I saw a huge animal coming at me. Nature's revenge for all those small ones whose heads I'd bitten off."  
  
Lodz couldn't think of a response. But he didn't have to. His new companion continued, "Wait here while I go back to search the trench. I won't be long."  
  
"It would be safer if I went with you."  
  
"No. I want you to stay here. It's not far--I know the light's bad, but if I yell and you answer, I won't have any trouble finding you again. This may take me a few minutes. I have to check on the Russian, and, uh, patch him up if he's still alive."  
  
"I could help--"  
  
"No! Stay here!" The tone brooked no argument. But before he turned away, the Canadian--or American, or whatever he was--stuck his hand out and said more politely, "I'm Henry Scudder."  
  
Shaking the proffered hand, the bear's newly hopeful owner replied, "Lodz. Just Lodz."  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

  
  
Scudder was back in twenty minutes--though it seemed like an hour to Lodz, thinking of Bruno getting farther and farther away.   
  
The soldier was carrying two rifles. "Loaded and working," he said as he offered one to Lodz. "You may need this if the bear's gone completely wild."  
  
"He'd never attack me!" Lodz took it, though, somehow managing to hold both that and the whip he'd brought with him. The whip was intended only for cracking and gentle taps; he refused to hit an animal hard. _I won't shoot Bruno, but I won't hesitate to shoot any human who threatens him. You included. _"How's your Russian friend?"  
  
"He'll be all right," Scudder said as they began walking in the direction from which he'd come. "Passed out from shock, but he doesn't seem to have any injuries beyond scratches. I left him in the trench, just coming around.   
  
"He's not my 'friend.' He showed up after your bear did--I'd never seen him before. I don't know if he'd been tracking it, or was looking for other Allied forces because he's the last survivor of his unit." Soberly, he added, "Like I am of mine."  
  
"There, you see," Lodz said triumphantly, "Bruno didn't injure him! Bruno isn't dangerous. He's as scared of you soldiers as you are of him." He noticed Scudder didn't look convinced, but he continued quickly, "Was he still wearing his little red hat and cape? I don't see how he could have shaken them off--"  
  
"Yes, he was still wearing them. "  
  
"So it's obvious he's someone's trained bear. Hopefully other soldiers won't shoot at him."  
  
Scudder shook his head. "I hope we can take him alive, Lodz. But I couldn't blame anyone for ignoring the cute little hat, and seeing only the blood on his muzzle."  
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Scudder refused to stop for another look in the trench where his comrades had died. "They're past my help. And I know no Canadians or Russians have come to remove the bodies, or they'd still be at it. There were a lot of bodies."  
  
"That Russian soldier you mentioned--"  
  
"Has to be gone by now. Like I said, he was coming to. And no one who took a look around that trench would stay a minute longer than he had to."  
  
They had no trouble picking up the bear's tracks. As they plodded after him, Lodz reflected that Scudder was probably thankful for the distraction provided by a problem unrelated to the war.  
  
_Of course, we'll be in deep trouble if we run into a clutch of Germans! Maybe they'll be confused for a few seconds by not recognizing his uniform, and that will give us time to take cover.  
  
_He forgot that concern as he almost stumbled over a body--and looking down, saw that it had been partly eaten by an animal. He hoped his companion wouldn't notice. When he glanced at him, the revulsion on Scudder's face told him that was a forlorn hope. But Scudder merely said quietly, "Canadian," and walked on.  
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The men had been walking for about a half hour when they heard shouts up ahead--more precisely, shrieks, followed by a burst of gunfire. Amid more yelling, Lodz caught the word _bear_ and realized the agitated men were English speakers. All of them, apparently, though their curses were more inventive than any he'd heard before.  
  
A stray bullet whizzed by his head.  
  
Scudder began waving his arms and yelling, "Hold your fire! Canadian, Canadian!"  
  
They heard more curses, but now other voices were urging, "Stop shooting! There are men out there we can't see!"  
  
Floundering in the unnatural darkness, they finally met up. Ten scared-looking Canadian soldiers were clustered together, jumping at every sound, poised to fire at any moment and in any direction. As soon as he saw them, the seeming leader called out, "Here, stay with us! We're after a killer bear!"  
  
At that moment Bruno crashed through the remnant of some kind of barrier and blundered into view. Several men screamed, and several others fired panicky shots--nowhere near him. The bear growled and reared on his hind legs.  
  
Lodz gave a scream of his own. But while he was rooted to the spot, he saw Scudder race to interpose himself between the other soldiers and the bear. "Stop!" Scudder was yelling. "Don't kill him! There's no need--I have the trainer!"  
  
The soldiers howled in fury, but two of them grabbed the gun barrels of would-be shooters and made them fire harmlessly into the ground.  
  
Unfortunately, the crazed Bruno seemed about to charge Scudder.  
  
Lodz covered the distance between them in a heartbeat. "_Nyet_, Bruno! _Nyet!_" They'd been in Russia for several years; that was the language he'd been using most.   
  
For a horrible moment he saw no recognition in the bear's wild eyes. He got between it and Scudder, cracking the whip in his usual, non-threatening way. _Oh God, don't make me have to use it...  
  
_Recognition dawned. Within seconds Bruno's growls faded to a low, affectionate rumble. He planted his front paws on Lodz's shoulders and began nuzzling him. Suddenly, tears were streaming down Lodz's cheeks. _Bruno, I've missed you so! I'm sorry about this wretched war, but it will be over soon. Don't worry, I'll never let you out of my sight again._  
  
A voice screamed "Nooo!" Something or someone slammed into Lodz, sending both him and the bear sprawling.  
  
As he fell he heard three shots, and realized they'd just missed.  
  
Scudder was on top of him, but quickly scrambled to his feet. He and the other Canadians were shouting at each other. Lodz sat up to see Scudder standing with arms outspread, determinedly shielding him and the momentarily stunned bear. He got the impression Scudder was defying a superior officer.  
  
"The bear's a rogue, a killer!" the red-faced officer yelled. "Once they've tasted human blood you have to kill them!"  
  
Lodz jumped up just as Bruno did, and set about restraining him. He took a quick look around for his rifle, but he'd dropped it and it was out of reach.  
  
"Are you sure he killed anyone?" Scudder was demanding. "I've seen a half-dozen bodies he mangled, but they all looked like they'd already had fatal wounds from enemy fire."  
  
"No, I'm not sure," the officer admitted, "but what difference does it make? The thing's a bear, not a person! Better safe than sorry."  
  
"I'm telling you there's no need! I have his trainer here--the man risked his life to come after that bear! If he can keep him under control, he deserves a chance to take him back to the carnival. Then _he_, an expert, can determine whether he's still fit to perform or has to be destroyed. Haven't we seen enough death, without killing an animal needlessly?"  
  
Lodz clung to Bruno, who was now whimpering like a child, frightened by the loud voices._ A strange champion we have, Bruno, a man who used to bite small animals' heads off._ _I wonder if he'll be able to go back to that after the war?  
  
_"This isn't your decision to make," the officer said angrily.  
  
"The hell it isn't." Scudder cocked his rifle. "If you want to harm the bear you'll have to go through me. And I _will_ shoot."  
  
"You'll be court-martialed--"  
  
"I doubt it. I'm defending a civilian, because you can't do anything to the bear without endangering the trainer."  
  
The officer let out a string of oaths, but at last he lowered his gun. "All right, but get them the hell out of here." In a feeble attempt to save face, he ordered, "_You_ escort them back to the carnival!"  
  
Scudder saluted smartly and said, "Yes, sir!"  
  
Minutes later, when Lodz made a shaky attempt to thank him, he grinned and said, "We carnies have to stick together."  



	3. Chapter 3

  
  
_Breaking my pledge already_, Lodz thought with a guilty sigh. _I'm sorry, Bruno._  
  
Only the day before, he'd made an impulsive vow never to let the bear out of his sight again. And here he was, making a quick trip into the village while the carnival packed up to move from its nearby location. But Bruno's cage had been reinforced; he couldn't break out now. And Lodz's mission, he told himself, was meant to protect both of them. Scudder hadn't asked him to return that rifle, so he was on his way to buy a supply of bullets.  
  
_If I can find a store open. Looks like the village may decamp before the carnival does.  
  
_German forces had surrounded the place, then retreated; but they were rumored to be advancing again, in greater numbers. Most local residents had apparently decided to evacuate. A handful of Russian and Canadian soldiers were trying to help them do it in an orderly way.  
  
It made sense. With modern communications, people couldn't be kept in ignorance of the big picture. Everyone knew the Russian Army was being routed. The Allies had dispatched a few Canadian units in hopes of keeping Russia from pulling out of the war. But they couldn't spare enough troops from the Western front to make a real difference.  
  
As he headed for a shop he'd seen on his one previous trip into town, Lodz spotted two soldiers on the other side of the main square, absorbed in conversation. What drew his attention was the fact that they wore different armies' uniforms. One was Russian, the other Canadian--  
  
Not just any Canadian. It was his friend Scudder!  
  
Delighted to see him, Lodz changed course and headed across the square. He'd been half in shock the day before, and he felt he hadn't thanked Scudder properly for what he'd done. Not that any thank-you could be adequate...Scudder had put his life on the line, risked being killed by either the berserk bear or his fellow Canadians, all for the sake of a dumb animal and a "carnie" he'd just met.  
  
_I wonder if the Russian is the one who was in the trench with him? I hope so. I'd like to make sure he's all right, and apologize for Bruno's having given him such a scare.  
  
_He didn't call out to the men, didn't want to interrupt their conversation until he got close to them and could catch Scudder's eye.  
  
That was a mistake.  
  
They were too engrossed in whatever they were talking about to notice anything else. But as Lodz approached them, he glimpsed movement in an unlikely place: on a nearby roof.  
  
He looked up, and froze in horror. A man in a German uniform was targeting those oblivious soldiers. He was about to throw something.  
  
Lodz yelled a warning. Or tried to. Later, he wouldn't remember exactly what he had yelled--only that he'd lapsed into his native Polish, which neither the Canadian nor the Russian was likely to understand. Instead of ducking for cover, they turned to look blankly at him.   
  
Lodz flashed back on Scudder's flinging himself between an aroused bear and a possible hail of bullets. _We carnies have to stick together...  
  
_He made a flying leap, took Scudder down and sprawled on top of him.  
  
It seemed something should have happened by then, but it hadn't. He made the further mistake of looking up again.  
  
And his world exploded.  
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**_Russian field hospital, three days later._**  
  
Lodz had known he was blind even before the brief removal of the bandages. The pain couldn't be this bad if the damage wasn't serious.   
  
The medics kept trying to cheer him by stressing that his other wounds would heal completely. When they walked away, all he remembered was that they hadn't said anything hopeful about his eyes.  
  
He knew he'd succeeded in protecting Scudder from serious injury; that was all anyone had been able to tell him about the consequences of the grenade attack. He wished now that he was the heroic sort, who'd have absolutely no regrets about having sacrificed himself to save someone else. But the truth was that he didn't know whether or not he regretted it. Right now he couldn't think of anything beyond the pain. And he suspected that when it let up, he wouldn't be able to think beyond his terror of blindness.  
  
_God, I don't even know whether it's day or night_. The noise was constant. Patients moaned and screamed, frustrated medics snapped at each other, priests droned prayers over the dying.  
  
"Lodz?" a voice asked tentatively. "Are you awake?"  
  
_Speaking English..._  
  
He replied in the same language, "Yes."  
  
A hand gripped his. "Lodz, it's me, Scudder. I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner--I've been searching for you ever since I came to. I'm sorry about _everything!_ I'm so grateful...I'm still stunned by what you did."  
  
Lodz forced himself to say the appropriate thing. "I took the same kind of risk for you that you'd taken for Bruno and me. It just turned out differently. What's the saying in English, 'those are the breaks'?"  
  
"You took a much bigger risk," Scudder insisted. "I'll never forget it. How are you doing? What are the doctors saying?"  
  
_Meaning, will I be able to see when the bandages come off?   
  
_Lodz debated lying, but he felt too miserable to keep the truth to himself in order to spare Scudder. "I'm going to be permanently blind."  
  
Scudder squeezed his hand. "Actually, I knew. I wasn't sure they'd told you."  
  
Lodz sighed. "From the sound of it, there's so much horror around here that medics can't tell comforting lies. If they didn't stick to the truth, they wouldn't be able to remember what they'd told anyone." He gasped at a sudden stab of pain and found himself clutching at Scudder, who held him tightly. When he'd caught his breath he said, "I'm worried about Bruno--"  
  
"There's no need to worry. He's being boarded in a zoo temporarily. They'll take good care of him till you're able to work again."  
  
_Right. That's a joke.  
  
_To get his mind off the unlikelihood of it, Lodz asked, "What happened to the Russian who was with you? Was he the same one Bruno attacked?"  
  
"Yes, the same one," Scudder said unhappily. "He got the worst of that grenade--he's dead. Both his legs and an arm were blown off, and he bled to death before help could reach him. I'd been knocked out--minor concussion--and didn't actually see it, but I keep having nightmares about it."  
  
Lodz shuddered. "What about the German? Was he captured?"  
  
"No. You called him a German--are you sure of that? Was he in uniform?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then if he had been caught, he would have qualified for POW status. His assignment was probably to try to take out some Allied soldiers, but mostly to scare the villagers so they'd get out of there faster. He didn't intend to harm any civilians."  
  
"I suppose not."   
  
_And he wouldn't have, if I hadn't decided to play hero.  
  
Not a role for which I'm suited._  
  
Scudder lowered his voice. "Lodz, I didn't come just to express sympathy and say 'thank you.' There's a matter I can't discuss here, but it's very important that I see you when you get out of the hospital."  
  
"I don't understand--" But as he spoke, Lodz realized he almost certainly did understand.  
  
_He means to offer me some kind of charity. Who knows, maybe he comes from a wealthy family! And he can't say it here for fear of being overheard and having a half-dozen other men beg for help. English is widely understood.  
  
I suppose I'll accept what he gives me. But what I'd welcome most at this point is a bullet through the brain.  
  
_"I can't explain now," Scudder said urgently, "but it's crucial that we meet again. Here's what I want you to do..." He named a residential hotel in a nearby city, making Lodz promise to go there on his discharge from the hospital. "I'll arrange to be informed when you check in, and I'll take care of the hotel bill. I'll be there within a week or so, if I have to desert to do it."  
  
"All right." Lodz managed a weak smile. "But don't desert! I'll wait as long as necessary."  
  
"That's good." Scudder squeezed his hand again. "I'm leaving now--have to get back to my outfit. But this isn't over. Try to keep your spirits up. And _thank you_, my friend!"_  
  
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	4. Chapter 4

  
  
**_That night._**  
  
Lodz couldn't judge the passage of time. He kept trying to think about Scudder and his insistence on seeing him again, not because he really cared about the expected charity, but in an attempt to distract himself from the pain.  
  
It wasn't working.  
  
The few drugs available in the poorly equipped field hospital didn't help, either. He thought he was about to go crazy.  
  
And then, suddenly, he feared he _had_ gone crazy.  
  
The cacophony of sound he'd been hearing had been replaced by dead silence. And while he'd thought he was in pitch blackness before, the darkness now seemed even deeper.  
  
He screamed, and was momentarily relieved that he could at least hear his own scream.  
  
"There's no need for that, Lodz." The sexually ambiguous voice had a harsh, unpleasant timbre, but didn't sound unfriendly. Its language was Polish.  
  
"Wh-what's going on?" It seemed there wouldn't be any other response to his scream; that was frightening in itself.  
  
"I've simply come to visit you, Lodz," the voice said reasonably. He decided it was male. "I have a proposition to make, and I don't want us to be disturbed, so I've shut out all that annoying noise. No one can see me, and no one but you can hear me--or, for now, hear you."  
  
"I don't believe this. I'm having a nightmare--"  
  
"Nightmare?" His mysterious visitor sounded hurt. "How uncharitable! This isn't a bad experience, Lodz. To prove it, I'll do you a favor. I'll end the pain you're having. You'll still be blind, but the pain will be gone--permanently, no strings attached."  
  
Lodz felt a soft breath across his face...and the pain was indeed gone.  
  
He gasped. He still only half-believed he was awake, but he fervently hoped he was. He said humbly, "Th-thank you. Who are you, and what is it you want from me?"  
  
"One question at a time, Lodz. I'm going to touch you, and that will give you a glimpse, mentally, of who and what I am."  
  
An icy hand brushed his forehead...and then he was falling free of his moorings in time and space, tumbling, breathless, into a bottomless abyss.  
  
As he fell, he "saw" the reality of a dark Being who could take any form or none. A Being who straddled the ages, moved at will through a universe of innumerable dimensions. A Being who wielded immense power, yet was bound, as all things are, by rules.  
  
A Being who was, by human standards, utterly and irredeemably evil.  
  
As suddenly as it had begun, the experience was over. He was back in his bed, his heart threatening to burst from his chest as he sucked in a desperate breath.  
  
"Do you understand that much?" The voice was calm, benevolent.  
  
"Y-yes, my Prince." _Where did that come from? How did I learn what to call him?_ "I don't think I want to be any more involved--"  
  
"All I ask is that you hear me out. I'm prepared to offer you something you've always wanted. But there will be a price for it, a high price. You'll have to decide what's most important to you. I won't press you; whatever your decision, I'll abide by it."  
  
"Very well, my Prince. I'll listen." Lodz was terrified, but at the same time, he was consumed by curiosity. He'd heard enough that he now had to know what the demon--for demon he surely was--had in mind.  
  
He was totally unprepared for what came next. "It has to do," the demon told him, "with your new acquaintance Henry Scudder."  
  
_"Scudder?"_  
  
"Henry Scudder is not an ordinary man. He's an Avatar of Light--human, mortal, but with special powers that make him my enemy. A formidable one, whom I cannot simply kill. Nor can my servants kill him, but that's not a problem at this time.  
  
"Scudder possesses healing powers. Didn't you find it strange that he, apparently uninjured, was the only survivor in a trench where all his comrades had been killed?"  
  
Lodz said slowly, "I-I never thought of that."  
  
"He can heal his own minor injuries--does it instinctively, perhaps even involuntarily. Also, it's possible his comrades had seen the things he can do, and they persuaded him to lie low and stay out of the fight so he'd be available to heal their wounded. But the carnage was beyond anything he could remedy."  
  
_He said his gun jammed and then was unusable, but there was no suggestion it was empty. Yet he thought it possible **all** the other rifles had been fired until they were empty..._  
  
While Lodz was trying to absorb that, the demon continued. "Did he tell you about his act with an American carnival? Biting off small animals' heads? He added a touch no one else ever has. After he did it, he restored the animals to life!"  
  
Stunned, Lodz found a question forming in his mind. He blurted it out. "Could he--could he have let those Canadians kill Bruno, and restored _him_ to life?"  
  
_Does my asking that mean I believe all this?  
  
How could I not believe it, after what this Being showed me?_  
  
"Possibly," the demon told him. "But there are reasons why it would have been difficult, with so much devastation all around. And he couldn't have done it without people finding out. He felt safe with the carnival act because it was widely assumed it involved a trick of some kind."  
  
Lodz had another question. "C-could he have been killed by that grenade, if I hadn't saved him?"  
  
"No, but only because it wasn't a direct enough hit to kill _you_. A direct hit probably would have killed him. I would have been most unhappy about that."  
  
"Unhappy? I thought he was your enemy--"  
  
"He is. But he has a role to play in a struggle decades in the future. If he dies, that role will pass to his son--assuming he has one, and he seemingly believes he does. I know who Scudder is and where he is. My servants have thus far failed to locate the son."  
  
By now Lodz's head was spinning. _Why am I listening to this? Scudder is my friend!  
  
Except...if he has healing powers, why did he leave me blind...?_  
  
The demon said smoothly, "You're probably asking yourself, 'If he has healing powers, why did he leave me blind?' The answer is that _he doesn't intend to_. He couldn't expose himself by healing you here, couldn't even tell you his plan without risk of being overheard. But he urged you to meet with him later so he can restore your sight."  
  
Lodz was more confused than ever. "You're Scudder's enemy, and you want to recruit me, so it would be in your interest to turn me against him. Excuse me, my Prince, but if that's true, why did you tell me he means to restore my sight?"  
  
"Ah, now we're getting to the heart of the matter. If I deceived you about Scudder's intentions, you wouldn't be bound by any commitment you might make to me. It's essential that you make a free, informed choice.  
  
"If you wish, Lodz, you can let Scudder perform his miracle. He won't feel indebted to you beyond that. You'll go your separate ways, never see each other again. If you decide that's what you want, I'll erase your memory of our meeting tonight. Its only consequence will be that you'll be mysteriously pain-free for the short time you'll remain blind.  
  
"But as I said at the outset, I'm prepared to make you an offer." The voice was seductive now, almost hypnotic in its effect. "I can give you something you've craved all your life...something you've sought throughout Europe...something Henry Scudder _can't_ give you. Psychic ability, Lodz, _awesome_ psychic ability! The only catch is that you'll have to remain blind--and work against Scudder."  
  
Lodz felt faint. He heard himself saying, "I don't know..."  
  
"Of course you don't! Not without experiencing what I can give you! But now, Lodz, let me give you a taste of what it will be like!"  
  
Something was being pressed into Lodz's hands. It was a glass, he realized, the water glass he'd used earlier in the day...  
  
Suddenly, in his mind's eye, he saw the nurse who'd filled it for him. Natasha. Red-haired, green-eyed. Her life was an open book to him: the drunken, abusive father, the tubercular mother, the stillborn siblings, the one living brother who'd raped her a dozen times. He felt the depth of her love for Anatoly, a Russian soldier, a blond, bookish young man who, unknown to her, was already dead and rotting.  
  
He cried out in horror...and ecstasy. The glass fell from his hands and shattered.  
  
The demon's even voice said, "Here's something from which you can read much more." He guided Lodz's hand to a wooden table.  
  
And Lodz was sent whipping through the histories of a hundred people--patients who'd used the table, previous owners, the carpenter who'd made it, the lumberjack who'd felled the tree, lovers who'd pledged their troth beneath that tree, a murderer who'd been hanged from it.  
  
By the time he'd drunk his fill of psychic impressions, he knew he could become addicted.  
  
Perhaps he already was.  
  
"What...what exactly do you want of me, my Prince? If I agree, that is?"  
  
"I will give you these powers, which depend on touch. When you meet with Scudder, tell him _immediately_ that you're developing powers of this type. Pretend they're minor--that you think they're some kind of divine compensation for the loss of your sight, but in spite of that, they frighten you. He must believe you're desperately unhappy.  
  
"After hearing that, Scudder won't go through with his plan to restore your sight, won't even mention it. He can't heal you without touching you, and he'll fear that if he does, you--who are, after all, still a near-stranger--may learn far too much about him.  
  
"In fact, one reason why I don't want him to touch you is that he would also learn too much about _you_. He possesses this power to a limited degree--he can only pick up knowledge that's relevant to his mission.  
  
"He won't dare heal you, but he'll feel extremely guilty about your blindness. And he'll know you won't be able to return to your old carnival. You'll still be capable of performing with Bruno, but they won't trust you to do it; and you'll pretend to be too afraid of your psychic powers to exploit them, at least right away. Scudder will see only one solution: to use his influence to get you a place with _his_ carnival, in the U.S. Which is exactly what I want."  
  
"I'm beginning to understand," Lodz said softly. "You expect him to go back there after the war, and you want me to spy on him?"  
  
"Yes. After a longer friendship, he may let things slip. And while it won't be possible for you to touch him, you may find opportunities to touch his belongings. I need information about that son of his!   
  
"An agent in the U.S. may prove valuable in other ways. An Avatar of our own, an Avatar of Darkness, is living there now...  
  
"A word of warning. The carnival has another psychic, a woman, who's hostile to us and whose powers are not dependent on touch. But she's suffered a mental breakdown and can't communicate with anyone, so she's unlikely to pose a threat."  
  
Lodz was puzzled. "A psychic who can't communicate? What use is she? Why are they keeping her there?"  
  
"Apparently, friends who believe in Scudder's powers are caring for her in the belief that when he returns, he'll heal her."  
  
"Oh. But then he probably _will_ heal her--"  
  
"No, I doubt he'll be able to. Whether or not she fully understands it, she's retreated from the world because she _wants_ to hide from things she can't face, can't cope with."  
  
Lodz realized that at some point, he'd begun discussing the situation with this monstrous Prince as if they were already allies.  
  
_Scudder is my friend. How can I betray him?  
  
How can I live **without** those powers the Prince let me taste?  
  
Scudder can restore my sight...  
  
Which kind of sight means more to me?_  
  
"Well, Lodz? Have you made your decision? Shall I erase your memory of our meeting?"  
  
_I need more time!_  
  
"You must choose now, Lodz. What is it to be?"  
  
Lodz took a deep, shuddering breath.  
  
"At your service, always, my Prince."  
.  
.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
.  
.  
So much had gone wrong over the years.  
  
The first phase of the plan had worked perfectly. The guilt-ridden Scudder had convinced Carnivale to hire Lodz, and he himself had returned after the war.  
  
But then the psychic Apollonia had come out of her catatonic state just long enough to warn him, he'd fled, and they'd lost him altogether.  
  
_None of that was my fault_, Lodz reflected. _We always knew Apollonia was the wild card. I could only have neutralized her by killing her, and the Prince didn't want that, because of her daughter...  
  
And how could I have chased after Scudder, when I had a bear no one else could handle, and on top of that, I'm blind?  
  
_The Prince had never said it was Lodz's fault, but in various ways, he'd let him know he was dissatisfied.  
  
The Prince had bought the carnival and come to the U.S. himself. But he'd concentrated on his obsessive hunt for Scudder, turning day-to-day operations over to Lodz.  
  
It was Lodz who had to endure the constant griping, the grumbling that as carnival manager, bear handler, and psychic he was trying to wear too many hats. The argument went that no man could do so much and do it well--least of all a blind man.  
  
Unfortunately, the claim had some merit.  
  
Lodz understood now that the Prince--"Management"--could have restored his sight at any time. But he wouldn't do it, for the same reason he undoubtedly wouldn't restore Bruno to life: miracles would attract unwanted attention.  
  
Lodz had dealt with his misery by drinking too much. Now, he heard, newer members of the troupe refused to believe he'd been injured in the war while protecting someone else. The hot rumor was that he'd gone blind from drinking cheap absinthe.  
  
His demon-given psychic gift had never failed him. But of what use was it, really, beyond letting him amaze carnival audiences with his insight into their thoroughly dull lives?  
  
The decision to come to St. Louis had been his--a mistake traceable to his unfamiliarity with the country. He hadn't realized what a big, noisy city it was, how likely it was to transport Bruno back to the war.  
  
_I wasn't willing to admit it, but he was never the same after that war experience. He was more skittish, more easily upset. But if I'd just avoided St. Louis...  
  
_He was sure those vicious children had teased the bear, maybe even abused him. He didn't give a damn about the children. He was glad they were dead!  
  
_But I was the one who brought Bruno to St. Louis. That **was** my fault, all my fault.  
  
_The bear had never been the same after the war, never recovered.  
  
_What if I'd let him go, back then in 1917?  
  
**What if I'd just let him go...?**  
.  
.  
.  
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_(The End)_  
  
  
  
  
_   
  
  



End file.
